<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814</id><updated>2012-02-16T06:45:23.435-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tu rompi mi corazon</title><subtitle type='html'>This blog is made to basically get things off my chest. There is some poetry, stories, personal anecdotes, what I feel.  It is also my changing view of the world, it documents every cynical thought I have. 
And the good ones too.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-5496013224705155208</id><published>2009-10-20T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T21:24:46.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You are a book with no words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As my trembling fingers trace the pages&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Searching for answers that you may never reveal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A song with no rhythm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That I can't seem to stop singing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics seem to change with every new day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never have I felt so secure, but yet so powerless&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But when I find myself in your arms, I escape&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You move like water, filling every thought in my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flowing throughout my body&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh the music our bodies make&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As our souls collide into each other&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-5496013224705155208?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/5496013224705155208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=5496013224705155208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/5496013224705155208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/5496013224705155208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/10/you-are-book-with-no-words-as-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7377605383869630347</id><published>2009-09-23T00:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T00:07:54.425-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Pretty woman was one of the most romantically disturbing movies of all time; a man falls in love with a prostitute. Cute? Yes. Realistic? No. Despite what most people think, in America the prostitution rate is growing, especially male prostitution. Our generation is a very eye-opening, changing, generation. We have to go against the norm, sort of like industrialized hippies. Instead of peace and love, we are searching for change and money. Due to desperate times, some of our society has had to rely on their bodies for keeping up with the era, which has led to illegal prostitution. Most of these people die from disease, or in a dispute with a customer, or ‘pimp’. But I propose to you, what if we legalized prostitution?&lt;br /&gt;              Now, of course, we would have to haves strict regulations enforced, but with these regulations we would protect both the customer and the prostitute. First off, there would be numerous sexually transmitted diseases tests conducted each month and also random drug tests. This would be able to discredit the argument of having sex for drugs; instead it would be a business. I know what you are thinking, how cold and inhumane is it to turn such a beautiful natural thing into a business? I reply with this, what isn’t a business anymore? This is no worse than the church requiring tithing, membership fees, and a member log.  Everything these days a business, I’m just proposing that the country benefits off of something that will go on no matter what.             &lt;br /&gt;              IF prostitution was legalized, then this would reduce the murder, battery, assault rates. While also reducing the numbers in our prisons and jails. 78% of prostitutes have been threatened with a weapon, and 82% have been physically assaulted. By having an enforcement their t o protect  the women or men, then their would be a great decrease in crime throughout the states.&lt;br /&gt;    Prostitution can be traced back to Roman, Greek, and even Egyptian empires, if it has survived this long, their is no way it is going away in the near future just because of the recent laws put in place, illegalizing it. People are driven by sex, it is human to want physical contact, why ban something that will happen anyway? If you ban this, why not ban abortion? Is it not the womans choice in this situation also? We are faced with the issues we had with abortion being illegal, unsafe practices are occuring. The reasoning behind legalizing abortion was because of the following: it prevented unsafe practice, it is the womans choice, and this ended up protecting mother and child. If prostitution was legalized then their wouProxy-Connection: keep-alive&lt;br /&gt;Cache-Control: max-age=0&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; be a downfall of drug use, and physical abuse.&lt;br /&gt;    Morality is no longer something to hold us back in this society. We allow others to kill us, selling us tobacco products, alcohol consumption, and even worse junk food. Basically, homocide is legal in America, but paying for sex is not? It's ridiculous we are basing our moral values off of religion, if you think about it thats what it all boils down to. The defense used is 'God is the founder of America', well no actually he isn't, but still we are focused on what the bible says. So much for seperation between church and state, it is unfair to base the whole countries values off of something that could be entirely untrue. This is sad, but we should believe in money, money is something tangible, something we all benefit from. Whether we admit it or not, its always in the back of our minds. So prostitution shouldnt be challenged morally at all, seeing as how immoral this worlds become, this would just fit right in. Mark Liberator says the following «If critics of prostitution wanted to truly help prostitutes and the neighborhoods where prostitution occurs, they would reconsider their position. Prohibitionists retain their view as a result of moral codes, not because of unbiased scientific study. Research shows the many benefits of legalization. Allowing prohibitionist propaganda to drive laws and the way civil liberties are viewed will guarantee: drug dependency will not be abated, physical abuse will continue, and STDs will spread. Most important, the women who need help will continue their lives on the same harmful paths.»&lt;br /&gt;    Another debate amongst the masses is how would we regulate such a business, well, how do you regulate anything? You hire people, which would bring the employment rate up in the long run, more job openings would come into play. Such as we would need a sort of police force, to protect the clients and the prostitute. Furthermore, we would need special clinics set up, where we could train and hire nurses, offer internships, for testing the prostitutes. If legalized, prostitution would be ran just like any other business, view it as a taxi service. You need the drivers, the prostitutes, and then you need a repair shop, the clinics, and finally you need a head behind it all, which instead of a pimp would be a form of police force.&lt;br /&gt;    I leave you with this, imagine waking up tomorrow when abortion, ciggarettes, junkfood were illegal, these changes have affected every generation. Its now time to turn an underground business, into a profit for this country.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7377605383869630347?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7377605383869630347/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7377605383869630347' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7377605383869630347'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7377605383869630347'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/09/pretty-woman-was-one-of-most.html' title=''/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-6137955341753090101</id><published>2009-09-19T02:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T02:36:52.930-07:00</updated><title type='text'>d</title><content type='html'>If I die, do not fear your hands are clean. I, myself, chose this route I have lost sight of. And I plan to stick to being helpless. You can try your charm, spells, those looks on me. But in all honesty, memories of you and I have started to fade away into dust.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-6137955341753090101?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/6137955341753090101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=6137955341753090101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/6137955341753090101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/6137955341753090101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/09/d.html' title='d'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7491123540635254520</id><published>2009-08-23T12:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T12:04:23.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>jdjkldjafjdlf</title><content type='html'>This city is in ruins, not a soul in sight&lt;br /&gt;All thats left is your wasted faith&lt;br /&gt;As yhou stand atop the few remains&lt;br /&gt;Do you hear that?&lt;br /&gt;The swcreaming wind&lt;br /&gt;Now that revolver in you hand&lt;br /&gt;Seems to be your only friend&lt;br /&gt;Your supposed heroes capes have fallen&lt;br /&gt;Leaving you alone with reality&lt;br /&gt;So roll the dice kid&lt;br /&gt; Are you all in?&lt;br /&gt;Lets retrace you steps&lt;br /&gt;Back to that fucked up thing you called a childhood&lt;br /&gt;Thats where this all began&lt;br /&gt;Your dependence on others&lt;br /&gt;Has now led to your own demise&lt;br /&gt;So now its your choice&lt;br /&gt;You decide...&lt;br /&gt;Pull the trigger and take a step forward&lt;br /&gt;Or lay in your own mess that you call a life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7491123540635254520?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7491123540635254520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7491123540635254520' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7491123540635254520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7491123540635254520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/08/jdjkldjafjdlf.html' title='jdjkldjafjdlf'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-4028547506407885905</id><published>2009-07-04T09:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T10:05:06.978-07:00</updated><title type='text'>run</title><content type='html'>Maybe we can be more than the poster children. Get out of this narrow-minded town,&lt;br /&gt;Break away&lt;br /&gt;from our conformity of noncomforming&lt;br /&gt;Maybe life will turn around for us, maybe we can be on top&lt;br /&gt;Its time to pack your bags, but leave them empty&lt;br /&gt;Lets light up the world with passion&lt;br /&gt;Lets let our hearts flow and our minds speak out&lt;br /&gt;We have no need for these paper cliche masks&lt;br /&gt;Anymore&lt;br /&gt;We just need a chance&lt;br /&gt;This isnt just a spur of the moment life&lt;br /&gt;We were meant for something more&lt;br /&gt;We were meant for something greather than this&lt;br /&gt;Life itself is too predictable&lt;br /&gt;You live, and then die&lt;br /&gt;Lets screw up the chain&lt;br /&gt;Step out of line&lt;br /&gt;And not only break the mold, but create a new one&lt;br /&gt;Beauty has only gotten us this far&lt;br /&gt;Or should I say near?&lt;br /&gt;The future will become the past&lt;br /&gt;And we will grow beyond these savage human instincts&lt;br /&gt;Fear would no longer hold us back&lt;br /&gt;But instead lift us up to be more than can be aspired&lt;br /&gt;So take off your blinders&lt;br /&gt;That shelter you from the immense possibilities and run&lt;br /&gt;Run hard&lt;br /&gt;And most importantly run with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-4028547506407885905?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/4028547506407885905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=4028547506407885905' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/4028547506407885905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/4028547506407885905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/07/run.html' title='run'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-9152497985403566499</id><published>2009-07-04T09:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T09:47:59.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>realization</title><content type='html'>I see those second glances&lt;br /&gt;Those awkward goodbyes&lt;br /&gt;And the repeated second chances&lt;br /&gt;There is no doubt in my mind&lt;br /&gt;That the thing you call a heart has fed me only lies&lt;br /&gt;But my eyes are not blinded by your mediocrity&lt;br /&gt;Those lips of yours I know are shared&lt;br /&gt;You think I will be with you so faithfully&lt;br /&gt;Truth is I'm better off dead&lt;br /&gt;But I ask what would happen if I declared&lt;br /&gt;My love for you so damn fake&lt;br /&gt;Would your cliche mask fall away&lt;br /&gt;Or would losing me be a risk your'e willing to take?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-9152497985403566499?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/9152497985403566499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=9152497985403566499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/9152497985403566499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/9152497985403566499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/07/realization.html' title='realization'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-8682618424882475958</id><published>2009-06-23T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T15:39:07.840-07:00</updated><title type='text'>i have to let go of the few little binds that we had.</title><content type='html'>you spit that four lettered lie at me out of your crooked lips&lt;br /&gt;but i take it as a grain of salt&lt;br /&gt;and while i mutter the word back&lt;br /&gt;my heart screams no&lt;br /&gt;look where this has gotten us&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;abiding by our strict morals of immorality&lt;br /&gt;we will forever be held down&lt;br /&gt;by these chains we created&lt;br /&gt;standing together is a cliche now&lt;br /&gt;because that would only make us weaker&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so back to us&lt;br /&gt;and this dark, lustfilled room&lt;br /&gt;we both are avoiding the question&lt;br /&gt;where do we draw the line&lt;br /&gt;this feeling is to old&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you say you want to feel at home&lt;br /&gt;well home is where your fucking heart is&lt;br /&gt;and transplants have been put on hold&lt;br /&gt;time to start digging deeper&lt;br /&gt;and let go of my hand&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i can only stand with you for so long&lt;br /&gt;we are only supported by this trash beneath us&lt;br /&gt;times running out before the bottom falls out&lt;br /&gt;and we are sent to our long waited deaths&lt;br /&gt;i cant say im sad&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so choose dear lover&lt;br /&gt;will your lies still churn in your eyes&lt;br /&gt;or will you stop evading the truth&lt;br /&gt;and finally take the grip off of my wrist&lt;br /&gt;and let my weary soul free&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-8682618424882475958?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/8682618424882475958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=8682618424882475958' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/8682618424882475958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/8682618424882475958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-have-to-let-go-of-few-little-binds.html' title='i have to let go of the few little binds that we had.'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-1365387484196113571</id><published>2009-04-29T18:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T18:18:03.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>spencer bolick.</title><content type='html'>carl spencer bolick.&lt;br /&gt;he was my best friend. and now he has gone. by his own choosing.&lt;br /&gt;i wrote a poem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;with wings on his back.&lt;br /&gt;tattered and torn&lt;br /&gt;a staggering man&lt;br /&gt;flys up to the sky&lt;br /&gt;a smile on his face&lt;br /&gt;as he finds his peace&lt;br /&gt;that he couldnt find&lt;br /&gt;on an earth with broken people&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as he ascends into the light&lt;br /&gt;years of his life shed off of him&lt;br /&gt;and the weight on his shoulders&lt;br /&gt;seems to disappear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;left behind is hurt&lt;br /&gt;and lost people&lt;br /&gt;those who don't know why&lt;br /&gt;guilt and sorrow fills empty souls&lt;br /&gt;while an angel watches from above&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;he whispers in our ears&lt;br /&gt;he stays with those who can not stand alone&lt;br /&gt;peace be with them&lt;br /&gt;as it is with him&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i miss my best friend. more than anyone will ever know. and i am hurting alot. but i still feel him in everything i do.&lt;br /&gt;and i loved him with all of my heart, and he still hasn't left me.&lt;br /&gt;and i won't let go of him.&lt;br /&gt;i hope that he finds the peace and tranquility that he spent so long searching for.&lt;br /&gt;i love you spencer...&lt;br /&gt;rip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-1365387484196113571?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/1365387484196113571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=1365387484196113571' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/1365387484196113571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/1365387484196113571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/04/spencer-bolick.html' title='spencer bolick.'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7796840953230407706</id><published>2009-02-21T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-21T11:00:40.979-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A conversation about god between an atheist addict, and a penecostal.</title><content type='html'>A conversation between an addict, and a penecostal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Penecostal: Life is to short? No, thats just your excuse, your compensation for the mistakes you have committed. You say you arent fulfilled, well start pouring more in your cup. Stop sucking down the cancer sticks, start opening a new door. You say that life is falling apart, and noone is there for you; sob stories will only get you so far in life girl.&lt;br /&gt;Addict: So take off that mask that you keep putting up, everyone can see right through it. Everyone can see that you are weak, everyone can see that you can't even handle the little tasks given. Stop acting like you are tough, like you can do anything through the almighty god. Stop acting like its okay to blame everything on some higher being. Take off that long skirt, cut that long hair, get your nose out of the bible.&lt;br /&gt;Penecostal: So much for you being the big, bad wolf! You have to have an escape from everything in your life, no matter how big or small. Vodka pours off your breath, and I can see your eyes are glossed over, are you really that pathetic? You want to leave, you want to get out, you want a second chance. Here I am, leading my life by that which is the way of God, and here you are polluting my air, wasting a precious gift of life, you take it for granted. You don't deserve to live.&lt;br /&gt;Addict:Then take it away? Oh wait, is that one of your sins? You think you are superior, and that you can walk around here, throwing backward glances, touching peoples foreheads, like your the messiah yourself! You are nothing! You have no meaning in life, the only thing you are doing is proving the point that God is nonexistent. Because if this an 'intelligent' higher power, why in the hell would he be pointing you in the direction, of what do you call it? Oh 'evangelism'. You are fake. The bible is fake, your whole life, all of your morals are based on a false reality, that now you can't escape from. You wish you were me, you wish that you could actually let go, and think for yourself, but you are so controlled by the god behind the pulpit, you can't see past the front pew. Get out of the church, see the world for what it is! This is a sad place, there is no proof of God's hand here.&lt;br /&gt;Penecostal: I can't understand why God would want me to wish for the best for you! Someone so dark, someone so distant from the truth, there is no use in praying for you. You are truly possessed by demons, only God can handle you now. I can only suggest one thing to you, step up to your potential. Because right now all you are is just some pitiful being cursed to walk the earth, and cursing everyone else who has had to encounter your sorry state of existence.&lt;br /&gt;Addict: Go speak your tongues somewhere else, go confess, go feel guilty about every single little human thing that you have done. It is time for you to step out of Plato's cave, can't you see that those shadows on the wall are only cast from us ourselves?  That the fake light of the fire is only causing you to have a dim view on that which you are surrounded by? Break the chains, follow the others and step out of the cave, you can see the true light, the truth. Because right now you and I are both just wandering souls. We both crave something more, but what if we both have it wrong?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7796840953230407706?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7796840953230407706/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7796840953230407706' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7796840953230407706'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7796840953230407706'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2009/02/conversation-about-god-between-atheist.html' title='A conversation about god between an atheist addict, and a penecostal.'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7026354628080012522</id><published>2008-12-31T09:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T09:35:26.325-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cliche New Years Resolutions</title><content type='html'>So anyone who knows me well enough, will know how much I despise christmas. However, I love New Years. New Years isn't just some holiday to go out and get obnoxiously drunk and then have a righteous hangover the next day, New Years is a second chance. This whole year we have been learning, taking our experiences, and our mistakes and twisting them into small bits of knowledge. New Years is a chance to take what you have learned and put it to work, I love second chances, lord knows I need alot. So on behalf of being like every other American, here is my list of resolutions for the year of 2009:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. To open up more to those who care about me.&lt;br /&gt;2. Make better choices.&lt;br /&gt;3. To get into Appalachian State University:)&lt;br /&gt;4. To graduate (Seniors 09)&lt;br /&gt;5. To have a better sense of self worth.&lt;br /&gt;6. To hang out more with my church family.&lt;br /&gt;7. To not take this life for granted anymore, and think about those who have it worst.&lt;br /&gt;8. To loosen up.&lt;br /&gt;9. To finally get used to the idea of growing up.&lt;br /&gt;10.To live.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7026354628080012522?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7026354628080012522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7026354628080012522' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7026354628080012522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7026354628080012522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/12/cliche-new-years-resolutions.html' title='Cliche New Years Resolutions'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-5355659886402923909</id><published>2008-09-15T17:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T17:09:27.939-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Un/expected Hault.</title><content type='html'>As the lepers take the throne&lt;br /&gt;A silent justice barely rumbles from the ground&lt;br /&gt;The mighty wrath of God is not a threat anymore&lt;br /&gt;Raising Lazarus becomes yet another cliche&lt;br /&gt;Humans used as specimens for the final expirement&lt;br /&gt;Through all of creation it has been lurking&lt;br /&gt;Patiently, and quietly waiting to pounce on its naive prey&lt;br /&gt;Mankind has made its great fall&lt;br /&gt;The inevitable flaw that runs through the human genome&lt;br /&gt;Our lust for power has been stifled&lt;br /&gt;It is no longer survival of the fittest&lt;br /&gt;Now the weak are the strong&lt;br /&gt;And evil becomes righteousness&lt;br /&gt;ALl of humanity has come to a screeching hault&lt;br /&gt;Because of one tiny molecule.&lt;br /&gt;Boom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-5355659886402923909?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/5355659886402923909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=5355659886402923909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/5355659886402923909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/5355659886402923909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/09/unexpected-hault.html' title='Un/expected Hault.'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-2653787301760571534</id><published>2008-07-08T18:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T18:35:21.957-07:00</updated><title type='text'>(not)Alone in the dark</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Do the stars above remind you of me?&lt;br /&gt;Of all the nights we spent lying in the grass&lt;br /&gt;We both wondered how long until it ended&lt;br /&gt;This feeling of discovery, and enlightenment&lt;br /&gt;Finding a state of mind where there were no words&lt;br /&gt;Instead song filled your ears&lt;br /&gt;Lyrics pouring out of your heart like a waterfall&lt;br /&gt;Suddently, our skies turned grey&lt;br /&gt;The rain came, and took you with it&lt;br /&gt;As you washed away, my heart followed&lt;br /&gt;The melodies ceased to flow&lt;br /&gt;The feelings tapered off&lt;br /&gt;I miss the gentle kisses&lt;br /&gt;So angelic, and refreshing&lt;br /&gt;Every embrace constantly kept me fulfilled&lt;br /&gt;But now I am left empty in anothers arms&lt;br /&gt;As the sky fades to dark&lt;br /&gt;Nostalgia takes over&lt;br /&gt;And our stars become lumenescent&lt;br /&gt;Even in the darkest of nights&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-2653787301760571534?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/2653787301760571534/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=2653787301760571534' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/2653787301760571534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/2653787301760571534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/07/notalone-in-dark.html' title='(not)Alone in the dark'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7633704035809453089</id><published>2008-07-08T18:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T18:34:03.445-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My eyes stuck on the sky</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I have steadily looked to the stars&lt;br /&gt;The same sky you have gazed at&lt;br /&gt;I have slept in the fields&lt;br /&gt;Filled with life and beauty&lt;br /&gt;I have tried to forget you&lt;br /&gt;The memories, how they haunt&lt;br /&gt;I have been held in anothers arms&lt;br /&gt;But I am not fulfilled&lt;br /&gt;I have been surround by others&lt;br /&gt;But I still am left alone&lt;br /&gt;I have drank from the fountain of youth&lt;br /&gt;But inside, I feel dead&lt;br /&gt;I have kissed many lips&lt;br /&gt;And tasted the forbidden fruit&lt;br /&gt;I have fallen for better&lt;br /&gt;But I still long for your comfot&lt;br /&gt;I have gazed at our sky&lt;br /&gt;And I have dreamt of our nights&lt;br /&gt;I have spent my life regretting&lt;br /&gt;But its not over yet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7633704035809453089?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7633704035809453089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7633704035809453089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7633704035809453089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7633704035809453089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-eyes-stuck-on-sky.html' title='My eyes stuck on the sky'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-2268796510870449663</id><published>2008-07-08T18:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T18:28:49.728-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Race against life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Maybe we can more than the poster children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Get out of this narrow-minded town, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Break away from our conformity of noncomforming&lt;br /&gt;Maybe life will turn around for us, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;maybe we can be on topIts time to pack your bags, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;but leave them empty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lets light up the world with passion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Lets let our hearts flow and our minds speak out&lt;br /&gt;We have no need for these paper cliche masks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;We just need a chance&lt;br /&gt;This isnt just a spur of the moment life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;We were meant for something more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;We were meant for something greather that this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;LIfe itself is too predictable&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;You live, and then die&lt;br /&gt;Lets screw up the chain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Step out of line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And not only break the mold, but create a new one&lt;br /&gt;Beauty has noly gotten us this far&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Or should I say near?&lt;br /&gt;The future will become the past&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And we will grow beyond these savage human instincts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Fear would no longer hold us back&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But instead lift us up to be more than can be aspired&lt;br /&gt;So take off your blinders&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;That shelter you from the immense possibilities and run&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Run hard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And most importantly run with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-2268796510870449663?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/2268796510870449663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=2268796510870449663' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/2268796510870449663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/2268796510870449663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/07/race-against-life.html' title='Race against life'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-5462655378284683162</id><published>2008-04-30T04:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T04:39:06.136-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking some advice</title><content type='html'>Steven King says that in order to become a good writer you must write all the time,  even when you don't feel like it, write.&lt;br /&gt;Lately, I haven't felt the need to say anything, a very calm, and actually orderly week. My mom is in San Fransisco on business, she goes to different places every other week. So until Thursday, I am home with my stepdad, our three dogs, and our lethargic blob, (we like to call it a cat).  Usually, I hate this, mainly because me and my stepdad butt heads alot. This week however, has been different. It seems like I have more freedom, like they are starting to actually trust me. I guess thats why I haven't felt the &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;need &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;to write lately, because things are so tranquil. Which brought me to thinking, why is it when we are feeling hectic, down, or even depressed we write so much?  When we feel such an extreme amount of emotion, it seems our pens start to take on a mind of their own. In the past couple of weeks, I have also been reaffirmed with God, and have actually started to pray a little bit more.  The first couple of days it was about my friend, the next about a death. This week, I have maybe prayed once since Sunday night. Sad, I know, but we as humans seem to only see God, in ungodly situations. Or is that just me? When I am feeling alone, or hurt, I cry out to him, usually literally screaming.  But now that life is just calming down, I forget he's there? I don't want to be like this, I don't think any of us do.&lt;br /&gt;So today, I'm taking this to heart, and going to just thank god.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-5462655378284683162?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/5462655378284683162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=5462655378284683162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/5462655378284683162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/5462655378284683162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/04/taking-some-advice.html' title='Taking some advice'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-251457798829955602</id><published>2008-04-25T05:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T05:42:43.271-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Yo Mama</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;One of the most overused insults in America today, &lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#cc0000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Yo Mama.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;color:#000000;"&gt;Of course, taken lightly, this joke surrounds everyday culture, especially at the typical highschool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Someone shoots you an sarcastic insult, and you find yourself to dumb to come up with a clever comeback, you say "Yo mama."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Now 'Yo Mama' has to be said with the correct tone, and at the appropriate time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;For instance:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Girl 1- "That shirt is ugly."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Girl 2- "LIke yo mama."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Notice how you never actually say the whole world, yo, is the word that must be used. If found actually saying the full word, you will be mocked, and the insult would have just stuck to you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Now, noone takes anyone seriously when they say a 'yo mama' joke, which is why you can say it to just about anyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;(Except for yo mama)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Now for my own personal anecdote invovling this interesting phrase.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Sitting in chemistry one day, after lunch, we were working in groups.  Bubbly as ever, I blurted out. "I'm so hyper!" My friend James loooked at me and shook his head and smiled "Thats apparent."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Now what  I said next might have been the greatest three seconds of my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;"Your mom is apparent."&lt;br /&gt;Now for you dumb, slow, and ignorant people I want you to read what I just wrote outloud.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;I'll even break it down for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Your-mom-is-a-pparent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Ok, hopefully you got it now. Isn't that just amazing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Quickly, the class applauded and my teacher made his own sly comment.&lt;br /&gt;"Your face"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Seriously? Your face.  It is quickly growing to take place of "Yo mama" Which deeply saddens me. &lt;br /&gt;Substance, that is what it lacks. Substance.&lt;br /&gt;Your face, anyone can see it, well unless they are blind(oops)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;But if they are not in fact blind, and they can fully see the person in front of them, why in the world would you say "Your face"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Its different with 'yo mama', because most of the time you have never met the persons mother so it in no way can be taken personal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;But with 'your face', it is talking about right then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Of course, not many people are offended by this either, but if I had to choose between the two cliche phrases.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;I would stick to the classics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Think about all of the good, and old stuff. LIke Tom Petty, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My Dad&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, Elvis, JOhnny Cash, The old Coca-Cola bottles, and of course Jimi Hendrix.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;Classics.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;I am proud to say that I am siding with your mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:78%;"&gt;What about you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-251457798829955602?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/251457798829955602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=251457798829955602' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/251457798829955602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/251457798829955602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/04/yo-mama.html' title='Yo Mama'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-3009418883922286249</id><published>2008-04-09T05:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T05:50:03.940-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boys are Satan</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My pastor once told me that boys were satan. And that christian boys are &lt;strong&gt;BOLD &lt;/strong&gt;satan. I laughed and continued on with my flirtatious ways.  Now I realize its all true.  That what boys really want out of you is your body, or should I say what you do with your body.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Too bad for them, they won't get it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I am a lot of things: gullible, naive, outgoing, and a tad bit immature. But I am in no way shape or form a toy for boys to use.  I have a mind, a heart, and I am a human being.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Feelings get in the way to many times, they drive us to do rash decisions. My friends ask me all the time "When are you going to find yourself a boyfriend Laura?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I laugh.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;They say I need to develop feelings for a boy, its totally normal. I understand that, and I have alot of the times.  But where do I end up? Hurt. &lt;br /&gt;Why should I let a vile thing like a boy hurt me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;I shouldn't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Thats why I never really open up to them. There are only a few boys I want in my life right now. His name is Daniel Bennett Brennan, and I can see myself marrying this kid.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;He is my best friend.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Never tried to take advantage of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;And has alot of the characteristics that my father has.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;My Dad is very protective, and so is Danny.  If Danny sees that a boy has broken my heart, he immediatly tries and fights them. (Not a good way of solving things, but I never let him) I can honestly say that I love him and he loves me. &lt;br /&gt;We have that cute highschool sweetheart thing going for us :]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;But thats besides the point, from today on, I am not going to focus on when I can obtain a beau. I will wait and let them come to me.  Because even if they claim they are christian, and that they don't want to use you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;All boys are equipped with two heads.  And one always listens to the other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&amp;hearts; Laura&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-3009418883922286249?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/3009418883922286249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=3009418883922286249' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/3009418883922286249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/3009418883922286249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/04/boys-are-satan.html' title='Boys are Satan'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7388555333503833289</id><published>2008-03-24T14:05:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T14:06:06.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Akward night</title><content type='html'>Blank faces make perfect masquerades&lt;br /&gt;Soulless lovers dance&lt;br /&gt;Other envy the parade&lt;br /&gt;All hoping for one chance&lt;br /&gt;Vivid colors, diamonds galore&lt;br /&gt;Hopeful glances, begging to get what they are asking for&lt;br /&gt;Mindless chatter&lt;br /&gt;Leads to the forbidden bed&lt;br /&gt;Glass shatters&lt;br /&gt;As they try to regain their head&lt;br /&gt;A waste of time&lt;br /&gt;A waste of cologne&lt;br /&gt;Clowns, brutes, and mimes&lt;br /&gt;All reasons to go home&lt;br /&gt;A flirtatious touch&lt;br /&gt;A sensual glare&lt;br /&gt;The drinks become to much&lt;br /&gt;For the broken hearts to bear&lt;br /&gt; Stumbling towards the door&lt;br /&gt;An akward goonight&lt;br /&gt;As she falls to the floor&lt;br /&gt;He whispers things will be alright&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7388555333503833289?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7388555333503833289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7388555333503833289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7388555333503833289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7388555333503833289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/03/akward-night.html' title='Akward night'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7215785020195578307</id><published>2008-03-24T14:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-24T14:05:47.133-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The mighty fall hard</title><content type='html'>Blank expressions line the fogged windows&lt;br /&gt;Faces pressed to the glass&lt;br /&gt;Horror, anguish, terror&lt;br /&gt;Their heart drops&lt;br /&gt;Watching their hero fall from the heavens&lt;br /&gt;Realizing the vulnerability&lt;br /&gt;They gaze on&lt;br /&gt;Praying this is all a dream&lt;br /&gt;Their false sense of hope&lt;br /&gt;Now diminished&lt;br /&gt;Their trust&lt;br /&gt;Now scarce&lt;br /&gt;They look to each other&lt;br /&gt;Who will step upWho will fill the role of their God&lt;br /&gt;Loss of faith&lt;br /&gt;Loss of love&lt;br /&gt;Loss of a hero&lt;br /&gt;Once again&lt;br /&gt;Oh how the mighty have fallen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7215785020195578307?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7215785020195578307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7215785020195578307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7215785020195578307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7215785020195578307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/03/mighty-fall-hard.html' title='The mighty fall hard'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-7908617122768547496</id><published>2008-03-19T05:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T05:24:58.609-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Living life to the fullest</title><content type='html'>The world is a twisted place. There is good, then bad. Uplifting, and destroying.  Walking on this earth, I have seen so many things.&lt;br /&gt;Love, Hate, War, Pain, Joy, and Doubt.&lt;br /&gt;So many times people take life for granted, they 'live life to the fullest'.  But when exactly is life full?&lt;br /&gt;When I was driving to the visitation last night, I spotted a homeless man, the typical character. Shaggy-looking, no shoes, what looked to be a hand me down shirt, and shorts with numerous holes.  His face not shaven, and his hair grown long and white, speckled with grey. His eyes dull, lifeless, it was a look of hopelessness. I watched the man gaze at the passing cars, almost praying that one would just throw a little bit of change his way. My eyes started to tear up, as I looked on, thinking of how that mans life had gone.  I thought about his mother, his childhood, maybe even his own family.  I thought about the rich, the ones sitting at home right now, the ones out to dinner with their loved ones. I thought about all these things, then I directed my mind back to the man.&lt;br /&gt;Thank God, that this was one of those annoying lights that took a half an hour for the light to change, otherwise I would have some angry drivers behind me. But that is why driving is one of my favorite things to do, you see humans in there natural vulnerable state.&lt;br /&gt;Finally the light turned green, and I of course sped off, but my heart literally hurt from not helping the old man.  All of a sudden, it seemed that everything that had happened lately hit me at once, and I started to cry.  I cried about everything, from school, to erins dad, to dead friends, to death period.   I thought of every funeral I have ever went to, and how annoyed I was when people said to me "At least he is with God now," in my head I wanted to scream "They aren't with me!"&lt;br /&gt;Humans are naturally selfish. I never want anything to happen to my friends or family, but seeing my best friend go throught one of the most horrific things anyone can go through, I am growing cynical.&lt;br /&gt;Lawrence Berry was an amazing man, everytime I would see Erin, I would talk to her Dad.  He was the kindest, sweetest man and this world was blessed to have him.  To see him taken away from this world so young, just makes me doubt everything I once fully believed.&lt;br /&gt;Tying my thoughts back to the homeless man, I thought of what he has done great.  Did he have a family too? Why is he standing on the corner when there are so many corrupt people in this world getting whatever their heart desires. &lt;br /&gt;I would kill to find my faith again, but lately I just can't concentrate on the good in life anymore.&lt;br /&gt;How do  I live life to the fullest, if it can never be full?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-7908617122768547496?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/7908617122768547496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=7908617122768547496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7908617122768547496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/7908617122768547496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/03/living-life-to-fullest.html' title='Living life to the fullest'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-6590504691205641193</id><published>2008-03-19T04:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T05:01:15.241-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting on my heart to change</title><content type='html'>Hopelessly falling&lt;br /&gt;Into your arms&lt;br /&gt;No fear at all&lt;br /&gt;As I fall so far&lt;br /&gt;Until I hit the ground&lt;br /&gt;And become numb&lt;br /&gt;You said that in the darkness&lt;br /&gt;There will be light&lt;br /&gt;But as I cry out your name&lt;br /&gt;You are nowhere to be found&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could take back&lt;br /&gt;All that I ever did&lt;br /&gt; Trusting you&lt;br /&gt;And your eternalness&lt;br /&gt;Tears stream down my face&lt;br /&gt;Realizing that my whole life&lt;br /&gt;Was based on a false reality&lt;br /&gt;Concentrating on the loud silence&lt;br /&gt;I recollect my thoughts&lt;br /&gt;Of when there was no silence&lt;br /&gt;And there was no doubt&lt;br /&gt;You were there&lt;br /&gt;I was here&lt;br /&gt;And now you are gone&lt;br /&gt;But I am waiting to return&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-6590504691205641193?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/6590504691205641193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=6590504691205641193' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/6590504691205641193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/6590504691205641193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/03/waiting-on-my-heart-to-change.html' title='Waiting on my heart to change'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-1878836706234566718</id><published>2008-03-18T05:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-18T05:16:07.315-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sorrow of the Morning</title><content type='html'>The night is still&lt;br /&gt;A calm has fallen down upon the world, no fights, no screams, only silence&lt;br /&gt;My eyes glance out in to the distance, trying to find any sign of movement&lt;br /&gt;Nothingness&lt;br /&gt;The world has become an abyss&lt;br /&gt;The only sound I can hear is that of my own heart, beating nice and slow&lt;br /&gt;My breathing becomes irregular, as if growing claustrophobic from the lack of noise&lt;br /&gt;The world seems to be caving in&lt;br /&gt;And that tiny form of alleviation is starting to disperse along with the stars&lt;br /&gt;Light raises over top the trees&lt;br /&gt;Almost looking as if they are on fire&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, the earth becomes restless&lt;br /&gt;Interrupted by the uproar of morning&lt;br /&gt;My concentration is disconnected&lt;br /&gt;As my eyes start to bounce from the blaze of light to the dark sky&lt;br /&gt;The night being pushed away&lt;br /&gt;Slivers of the shadows being cast out&lt;br /&gt;All secrets forced to be seen&lt;br /&gt;At the sight of the new morning&lt;br /&gt;There comes despair&lt;br /&gt;The fact that yesterday was not a dream&lt;br /&gt;Thrusting acceptance of the day upon you&lt;br /&gt;Another sunrise&lt;br /&gt;Another day&lt;br /&gt;Another chance to make mistakes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-1878836706234566718?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/1878836706234566718/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=1878836706234566718' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/1878836706234566718'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/1878836706234566718'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/03/sorrow-of-morning.html' title='Sorrow of the Morning'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2159524860983874814.post-8848966983666053082</id><published>2008-03-14T05:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T05:47:55.519-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sandy Shores</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;My eyes gaze off onto the horizon, searching for your tall sails.  A cold sea breeze blows gently against my skirt, as if pushing me away.  The sun sets again, just like it has done since the beginning of time. But this sunset, this closing of the day, fills me with despair. I try to direct my mind to a happier place, when you held me in your arms and whispered things will be okay.  Unfortunately, that was a long time ago, before you sailed away into that grace-capped morning.  Now I stay on this sandy shore waiting for you to return.  The sun dies again, and I am left with not even my own shadow.  I remember those eyes, those stormy green eyes, reminding me of the ocean. Are you still watching me? Because I feel a presence, as if someone is here, on this shore with me.  The breeze pushes again, except now vehemently, and I can't help to feel that you want me to go.  You want me to move on.  I fight the wind, as sand beats my skin, not ready to give up on you.  For without you my dear, I'm miserable at best.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2159524860983874814-8848966983666053082?l=bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/feeds/8848966983666053082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2159524860983874814&amp;postID=8848966983666053082' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/8848966983666053082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2159524860983874814/posts/default/8848966983666053082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://bonitachicaconqueso.blogspot.com/2008/03/sandy-shores.html' title='Sandy Shores'/><author><name>Laura McGarr</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13364423093281128951</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='25' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_WIFnWY3-TcM/SVul5FCQPDI/AAAAAAAAABk/Hzu8gjlSOvU/S220/lauramcgarrjesus.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
